


About Damn Time

by dreamdustmama



Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: Coda, Episode Tag, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-18
Updated: 2012-04-18
Packaged: 2017-11-03 21:30:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/386169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamdustmama/pseuds/dreamdustmama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Monroe meets Nick at the trailer, just to make sure he's really okay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	About Damn Time

**Author's Note:**

> coda to 1.17, so major spoilers if you haven't seen Love Sick
> 
> written for [this](http://grimm-kink.dreamwidth.org/3689.html?thread=2176873#cmt2176873) prompt on [grimm_kink](http://grimm-kink.dreamwidth.org)

In retrospect, it really doesn't take that long for Monroe to make the necessary excuses, although it feels like fucking ages. Hank leaves from Adalind's irritated and confused and even more suspicious than ever, but at least he's gone and Monroe can breathe just a tiny bit easier.

Rosalee is quiet as the two of them climb into his car, and the knowing looks she keeps sending him make him clutch so tightly at the wheel his knuckles go white. _Nick, Nick, Nick_ keeps racing around in his head, and all he wants to do is just fucking get to him already. But he doesn't even know where Nick is, and the fact that he's at least alive is the only thing keeping Monroe sane at the moment.

When they pull up to the curb next to Rosalee's house Monroe suddenly finds himself frozen, completely lost as to where to go next. He feels a soft hand on his arm and glances over, Rosalee's calm expression doing nothing to loosen the knots in his stomach.

"He's fine," she says softly, and Monroe drags in a deep breath. "You've talked to him, you know he's okay."

Monroe nods shortly. "I know," he says, and he does, sort of, though he wouldn't put it past Nick to have left out any serious injuries in their brief phone call. "I just don't know where he is or if he even wants me around, and I have to – I need –"

His throat closes up and he swallows, closing his eyes.

"So call him," Rosalee says, and it's the most obvious thing in the world but Monroe's not sure he can get through another phone call without breaking down. Which feels kind of ridiculous, really, because they've been through some dangerous shit together ( _together_ , his mind shouts), and it's not even the first time Nick has faced down other Wesen without Monroe with him.

This time was different, though – this time was Nick purposely hunting someone down to kill them and leaving Monroe behind rather than taking him with him, and he feels like he should have been there. Logically he knows that this was something Nick had to do on his own, but it doesn't stop him from wanting to have been there with him.

"Yeah," he says, opening his eyes and staring out the windshield. His headlights illuminate the street in front of them, reflecting off the lights of other cars parked nearby. "Yeah, I should call him."

Rosalee squeezes his arm and climbs out of the car without saying another word, and Monroe is suddenly grateful to have a friend who seems to just _get it_ without him having to try to explain.

He sits there for several more minutes, trying to gather his wits together enough to call Nick. The adrenaline rush that allowed him to call earlier is gone, and he's left feeling cold and shaky and unsure about everything. He picks up his phone and stares at the _call Nick_ icon, and then presses the message one instead.

_where are you?_

He hits send and continues to clutch the phone in one hand as he waits, impatiently tapping the fingers of his other hand against the steering wheel. It doesn't take long before Nick texts him back, the beep of the incoming message making him scramble to open it.

It reads _the trailer_ , and Monroe lets out a loud breath. He should have known Nick would go there. Throwing the phone onto the passenger seat, he shifts the car into gear and turns it around in the middle of the street.

The drive to Nick's trailer feels much longer than usual, even with Monroe pushing the speed limit. By the time he pulls to a stop in front of the silver trailer all of his anxiousness is gone, replaced by a desperate need to just see Nick, and maybe to hold him in his arms and never, ever let go.

He doesn't bother to knock, yanking the door open and quickly shutting it behind him as he steps inside. Nick is sitting in the chair behind the big desk, looking exhausted and beat up, eyes dim with shock and something Monroe doesn't recognize.

"Oh, dude," he says quietly, and Nick smiles weakly.

"I'm okay. Better than Adalind, anyway."

Monroe's breath hitches, words catching in his throat, and he strides over to him and pulls him up by the hand. He can't stand it anymore, and wraps his arms tightly around Nick's shoulders, burying his nose in his hair and breathing deeply. The scent is familiar, mixed with dirt and sweat and a faint echo of blood, and Monroe shudders. Nick could have easily been the one killed tonight, and the thought is so terrifying that he can barely comprehend it. This stupid man has worked his way so completely into Monroe's life, turning it upside down and sideways, and losing Nick now would crush him in ways he'd never before imagined possible.

"I'm okay. I'm okay, I'm okay," Nick is whispering against his neck, over and over, and Monroe isn't sure which of them he's trying to convince.

Sliding his fingers into Nick's hair, he tugs just hard enough to get him to lean his head back, and Monroe kisses him hard on the mouth. Nick makes a soft, surprised noise in the back of his throat and Monroe groans, pressing as close as he can possibly get. He can feel Nick's hands at his back, twisting into the fabric of his sweater, holding him in place, and his heart thumps hard against his chest. Opening his mouth just enough to slide his tongue out, he drags it along Nick's bottom lip, feeling the gash he had seen as soon as he'd walked through the door.

Nick tenses in his arms and suddenly jerks back, tearing his mouth away and pressing his hands against Monroe's chest. "Don't," he gasps, eyes wild and voice filled with panic. "You can't – you can't do that."

"Do what?" Monroe asks, easing his hands from Nick's hair so he doesn't accidentally hurt him. "Kiss you? Because I really, really want to, and I'm pretty sure you want to kiss me back."

Nick swallows visibly, shaking his head. "My blood –"

"Oh," Monroe says, suddenly understanding. He raises one hand and cups Nick's jaw, rubbing his thumb lightly over the cut. "Is this how you killed her?"

Nick closes his eyes and his hand comes up to curl around Monroe's wrist. He turns his head to press a kiss to his palm, breath warm as it ghosts over his skin.

"Yes," he finally answers, opening his eyes. He drops his hand and steps back. "Except it only killed the Hexenbiest. Adalind herself is just as alive as you and I, but the Wesen part of her is gone."

"Jesus, Nick," Monroe breathes, wanting desperately to pull him back into his arms. "And you think –"

"I can't risk doing that to you," Nick says, shaking his head. "You mean far too much to me."

Monroe stares at him for a moment, at a loss for words. Their friendship has been heading in this direction for a long time now – something that he knows they're both aware of – and he's not going to let a little cut stop them from having what they both want.

"Okay," he says. "Okay. We can save the teenager-worthy makeouts for later, but – goddamn it, Nick, I thought I was going to lose you tonight. You had to go out there by yourself to kill this chick, I get that, but all I knew was that you had to use your blood to do it and there was no guarantee you wouldn't be hurt enough from it to _die_. But you're not dead, you're very much alive, and I think it's about damn time we quit putting off the inevitable before it really is too late."

Nick makes a strangled noise and then he's pressing against him, breath hot on his ear, sending a shiver down his spine. Monroe settles his hands on Nick's waist and turns his head to kiss the uninjured corner of his mouth, flicking his tongue against the soft skin.

"God, Monroe," Nick groans. "You have no fucking idea –"

"Yeah, I think I do," Monroe murmurs, twisting just enough to kiss Nick again. It's gentler than the first, and when Nick kisses back instead of pulling away Monroe deepens it, delving his tongue into the soft, wet heat of Nick's mouth. He's careful not to press too hard against the cut, keeping the pressure light despite the fact that he wants to nip and bite and _claim_.

Sliding his hands down, he grips Nick by the hips and pulls him closer, grinding against him, letting him feel how much he wants him. Nick groans, his own erection solid through his jeans, and Monroe is pretty sure he's going to lose his mind if he has to wait any longer. Apparently Nick feels the same, because he pulls away and immediately shrugs off the jacket he's still wearing, dropping it onto the floor and reaching for the top button on his shirt.

"So," Nick says, and Monroe sucks in a sharp breath as he takes him in. His hair is mussed, eyes dark and pupils dilated, the scrape on his cheek and cut on his lip giving him a slightly dangerous look that makes Monroe's blood go hot. "Are you going to fuck me?"

Monroe moans, his breath hitching in his chest, and he can't draw his eyes away as more of Nick's skin appears. "Yeah," he breathes out without thinking, and then shakes his head to try and clear it. "No, wait. I don't have anything with me – lube, condoms –"

Nick looks disappointed but he still nods. "I don't keep anything here. Next time –"

Monroe reaches out and grips Nick's wrist, pulling him in close. "Next time," he says into his ear, enjoying the resulting shudder, "I'm going to fuck you so hard you'll feel it for a week."

"Oh, Christ," is Nick's answer, and he shoves his free hand beneath Monroe's shirt, dragging his fingers over skin. He leans in and nips lightly at Monroe's jaw, and really, there's only so much he can be expected to take.

Biting off a low, possessive growl, he releases Nick to pull both his sweater and his shirt over his head, not caring about the buttons he probably just ripped off. Nick is on him almost immediately, dragging his mouth over Monroe's collarbones and flicking his tongue at his pulse point, fingers fumbling at the fly on Monroe's jeans. It doesn't take long for him to get his hand inside, and Monroe's hips jerk as Nick wraps his fingers around his dick.

"Oh god, oh fuck," Monroe gasps, and as much as he never, ever wants this to stop, he gently grabs Nick's wrist and pulls his hand out, guiding him around so he can push him down onto his back on the small bed. He reaches down and flips open the button on Nick's jeans, curls his hands around the waistband and tugs them down as far as they'll go, mouthing a light kiss onto his stomach.

Nick laughs and pushes him away. "Take your own clothes off," he says, and sits up to yank his shoes and socks off before pushing his jeans down the rest of the way. "I'm not going to be the only one naked."

Oh, right. Monroe swallows, toeing off his shoes even as he pushes his own jeans and boxers down, kicking them away. By the time he's finished Nick is staring up at him from the bed, hand loose around his hard dick, and Monroe is seriously done waiting. He reaches out and shoves Nick's knees apart, climbing between them, a stuttering breath escaping as he settles down and their dicks slide together. Nick places a hand on the back of his neck and pulls him down to kiss him again. His mouth is hot, tongue twisting and teasing, dragging a deep groan from Monroe's chest.

"Come on," Nick breathes against his lips, shifting beneath him.

Monroe slides his hands down Nick's thighs to his hips, pinning him down to the bed. "Be still," he orders, and Nick whines deep in his throat but doesn't try moving again. Monroe rolls his hips, rocking them together, pushing his cock against Nick's, and oh _oh_ , that's fucking brilliant.

He can't stop after that, Nick making small, choked-off noises beneath him, the drag of sensitive skin making him shudder and gasp and mouth open kisses onto Nick's skin. Precome from both of them mixes and makes the slip-slide easier, smoother, and Monroe whimpers as heat begins to spread through him. Releasing Nick's hips, he buries one hand in soft black hair and places the first two fingers of his other hand at Nick's mouth.

"Suck," he says, and oh god, Nick's lips open and he pulls Monroe's fingers in, eyes half-closed as he twists his tongue around them. "Fuck, fuck," Monroe moans, the soft wetness of Nick's mouth very nearly sending him over. He's able to hold off, barely, and after a few moments he pulls his fingers free and slips his hand between them, touching them against Nick's opening.

"Oh god, yes," Nick gasps, and that's all the permission Monroe needs before pressing both fingers in, not stopping until his knuckles touch Nick's rim.

Nick's reaction is immediate and intense. He shouts, back arching, hole clenching around Monroe's fingers as his dick jerks between them, hot come pulsing out. He shudders, fingers twisting in the sheets beneath him, and Monroe breathes in sharply, taking in the scent of sex and Nick together. His cock slides through the mess, covering him in Nick's release, and all of it together is just too much. Burying his face against Nick's neck, he chokes out a low groan as he comes, senses overwhelmed.

It takes him a few moments to realize that his fingers are still buried inside Nick, and he carefully pulls them out, releasing his grip on Nick's hair at the same time. "Alright?" he asks, breath quick and hard.

Nick grins up at him languidly, but winces when the cut on his lip stretches too far. "Yeah," he says anyway. "I'm not that breakable."

"Obviously," Monroe says dryly, pressing a quick kiss to the cut before Nick has time to protest.

Nick's smile fades slightly, and he reaches to tangle their fingers together. "You know nights like tonight won't exactly be a rare occurrence, right?"

Monroe snorts. "I'm pretty sure I'm aware of that by now. Possibly even more aware than you."

"I'm just saying, are you sure you want –"

"Shut up, Nick."

Nick's lips twitch, like he's trying to keep his grin from returning. "Right. So, uh. Are we going to spend the rest of the night on this much-too-small-for-both-of-us bed, or maybe go somewhere a bit more comfortable?"

"I vote for comfort," Monroe says, pushing himself up with a quiet grunt and looking around for their clothes. "I'm not sure I could sleep in here with all this Grimm stuff anyway."

"So you can sleep with an actual Grimm but not surrounded by Grimm things?"

"I didn't say it made sense."

Except that it makes absolute, perfect sense, and they both know it.


End file.
